Contest Entry (Writer's cramp) |
An Attempt to Escape He stared up at the stars; Big, bright, and tempting. He reached out his arm, wishing he could get a hold of one. It was his first attempt, but he wasn’t losing faith. Reaching for those stars was the only thing that was making his captivity bearable. Turning left, he ogled at the wooden bars caging him inside. He could see light shining from between the timber. He crawled closer, until he was clutching two of the bars. Then suddenly, he started squeezing his head in-between, trying to taste his freedom. Just a little more, he thought. Just a little more and I’d be free. But the more he pushed, the more he realized there was no use in escaping. His body was far too chubby. Yet, now he was stuck head out, and his neck was starting to ache. He pulled his head back, but soon his constricted ears got in his way. Soon, they were pinker than his cheeks from the pain. He pouted before screaming out for help. “Aaaaa!” Words weren’t coming out. “Aaaaa!” Why weren’t the words coming out right?! His heart started to race. Why wasn’t his mind and tongue getting together?! He pouted again before bursting into tears. He wondered why the funny-faced-being caged him inside that prison. So, he got angrier, and more scared. But he knew no one to call for except the funny-faced-being. He started to screech, yell, scream, and ball his eyes out. His throat was getting sore forcing him to cough like an old man. Minutes passed, and he was still stuck. However, his tears had dried. Right then, he tried to pull his head back again, to no avail. There was no use to his attempts. Everything failed him; the funny-faced-being, his tongue and lips, and even his cries. Suddenly, he heard the main door open, urging him to burst into tears again. He knew help was here. He wanted to call the being’s name, but his tongue was just too stubborn. He could only cry. “Oh my God!” The being gasped as she rushed towards him. “Jim, come here, his head is stuck.” The being made his regular funny face along with the funny voices. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Mommy is here now.” She brushed her hand over his head calming him down. Soon, another being walked in. The baby knew him as the man who would always tossed him into the air and hugged him closer to his ash-smelling shirt. The baby looked up mumbling words that had no meaning to mommy and daddy. He reached his hand out as they greased the ‘evil’ crib to free the hero of the story. No worries though, the hero was freed. He grew up to be a rather talkative man. In fact, he was so talented with the words; he had his own baby now. In fact the day he first brought that child home, he stood over the crib in silence. “Is something wrong?” She asked. “I don’t think this crib is safe enough,” he frowned. “It’s a crib. It’s as safe as anything can be.” “We should stack pillows-” “They could smother her.” He took in a breath, “but what if she squeezes her head threw the bars.” “That’s not going to happen.” “It’s a possibility!” He raised his voice, but then lowered it quickly as not to wake the baby. “They are too tight together.” “But-” “Did you ever hear of a baby who did that?” “I don’t think so,” he whispered. Something was too familiar about the situation. “Here you go. It doesn’t happen.” “Fine.” “Good.” “But just incase we should buy another crib with tighter-” “But it’s your childhood crib.” “You’ll never understand,” the talkative man lowered his head, walked out of the room, searched for his keys, and headed for the closest store. Word count: 661 |